The Emperor's Mage
by Avisi
Summary: AU The Emperor Mage, where Numair never left Carthak and instead became Carthak's-and the world's-most feared and powerful sorceror, the Black Mage. The Emperor Ozorne of Carthak has sued for peace, and Tortall's peace delegation includes Daine, sent to heal the royal birds. Inundated with warnings over the Black Mage, she vows to stay out of his way at all costs. But Master Num
1. Chapter 1

Prince Kaddar, heir apparent to the Emperor Mage, sat crossly under the midday sun, wondering what was keeping the delegation from landing their blasted ship and ending this hell that he was in. Though it was autumn, the heat oppressed the imperial retinue as if it were the very heart of the summer months. Slaves stood on either side of him with large palm leaf fans, but it did nothing but move the humid air around, making him more acutely aware that his long brown hair was sticking to his forehead, no longer as artfully made up as it had been this morning.

"When they were supposed to be landed," he grumbled. Abruptly, he stood, and signaled for a slave. "Bring me something to drink. Make it _cold."_ The slave nodded and rushed off, returning presently with a carafe of water sweetened with mint. The prince took a glass, drained it in one mouthful, and held his hand out for another.

"Careful with that," the ship's captain warned. "You'll make your belly sick, in this heat."

Kaddar frowned. "I'm already sick with waiting, what's another ailment?" The prince's words were sharp, but he took to sipping his drink nonetheless. The captain had known him since he was a boy, and took no offense, indeed paid no mind at all to Kaddar's words. The older man was focused on the animals at the docks, sitting quietly, patiently, as trained as any house pet. Only they were wild beasts, and should not have been so. He made the Sign against evil.

"Have you ever seen the like?" the captain said in a low voice. Kaddar scanned the shore line, happy to take his mind off of the interminable waiting, if only for a few minutes. Dogs sat with cats, their feuds ceased for the moment, while gulls and pelicans mixed with finches and tanagers. None made a sound, and the silence was eerie. Kaddar made the Sign himself, then made a sound of disgust.

"It's the girl," he said. "They say there is a girl from Tortall who has an affinity with animals. There are tales that she can speak with them, heal them, even take their shape."

The captain looked sidelong at the prince. "As if northerners did not smell bad enough already." Kaddar grinned, despite himself. Leave it to his sailors to give not one fig about politics.

"Yes, well, I can only hope that is also a tale. I'm to be her escort, while she is here. It seems she is my age, and apart from healing my uncle's birds, she will have very little to do."

"Then we should be grateful for the fine weather, to make sure you have many open-air activities available for the animal-girl." Kaddar laughed before he could help himself, then bit his lower lip, trying to quell the smile. He did not know what to expect from this delegation, but already he felt like it was not much.

The subject of the joke sat in a small bunk on the idling ship.

"Scoot, Kit," Daine said to the small dragon, who curled up into a tighter ball with a low chirp of displeasure. Alanna smiled at the young girl, squeezing in beside her. Not so young anymore, though, the Lioness thought, eyeing her friend. Daine had turned seventeen, and still seemed more interested in animals than in the young men at court, but clad as she was in an off-the-shoulder blue gown that hugged her modest curves, Alanna was not so sure she would escape the notice of the men here.

Duke Gareth of Naxen looked around the room at the delegation. "Is the room secure?" he inquired. Alanna snapped her gaze from Daine and quickly sent purple fire to the corners of the room, where it bloomed and coated the walls.

"It is now," she assured.

"Very well," Duke Gareth said. "We all know why we are here. The chance for peace here is paramount, and this is the last chance we will get. You all have heard my warnings, but I give them again: we must be cautious, and give no offense to any, no matter how much they might deserve it. No losing our tempers." Here, he looked pointedly at Alanna, and she had the grace to blush. "The political climate is not like our own," Duke Gareth continued. "The Emperor Ozorne is fearsome enough in his own right, but it is his vizier that we be wary of. Master Numair Salmalin is, well…"

"The most powerful mage in all the realms," Harailt of Aili supplied. Harailt was the master of sorcery in Tortall, and knew such things. "There were once seven who could claim the mastery of the black robe. Master Numair has picked them off one by one, and styled himself the Black Mage. Though none have been able to lay charges against him for doing so, of course. But he alone wears the black. Even the Emperor Mage himself wears the orange. It is imperative that we show as much deference to the Black Mage as we do to the Emperor."

Daine frowned at the talk. She did not care much for politics, but this fellow sounded intolerable. "How can this Black Mage be as powerful as the emperor, if the emperor is also a mage?" she asked. Kit whistled alongside her, wondering the same. Duke Gareth turned his gaze to her, eyebrows drawn together.

"Emperor Ozorne and Master Numair grew up together. We do not know which man holds the power of Carthak. Some assume the Emperor Mage is all-powerful, and commands the love of the gods as well as the people. Others put Master Numair ahead of him, for he was always the better student, and given to more arcane pursuits." Duke Gareth frowned. "One thing is for certain. Emperor Ozorne may still have control of the Carthaki counsel, but it is the Black Mage that is dangerous. He is powerful, and worse, unpredictable. We know that Emperor Ozorne wants peace between Carthak and Tortall, and that gives us some advantage. We do not know what Master Numair wants, or if he wants anything from us at all." At that, he gave Daine another considering look. "I especially ask that you be careful, Daine. You are here to heal the emperor's birds, and that is all. No drawing attention to yourself, and no seeming remarkable." His lips drew thin, as he clamped down over words he dared not say. The Black Mage was a notorious womanizer, as well as an academic. There was no other wild mage as practiced as Daine, and no other expert on wild magic in the world other than one Numair Salmalin. She was not the Black Mage's preferred woman—that dubious accolade was reserved for shapely blondes—but Duke Gareth would be happier all the same when they were firmly back on Tortallan soil, with his young charge safely away from the eyes of the Black Mage.

"Unremarkable," Daine repeated with a wry smile. "I'll try my best."

"Wonderful," Duke Gareth replied. If he registered the sarcasm in her tone, he did not show it. Instead, he launched into more caveats for the delegation, which Daine decided not to listen to. Her thoughts were with the emperor's birds, and how sitting in the little room was keeping her from helping them. She did not care one hair for the Black Mage, or the Emperor Mage, or any other mages, for that matter. That was better left to Alanna and the rest of the delegation. Daine knew she would not have to try hard to escape the notice of Master Numair. She was unremarkable, just a young girl who had a way with animals. She wasn't the type to draw the notice of powerful mages anyway, and that suited her fine.

When everyone had cleared out of the room, Daine stretched, then frowned at the mirror. She tucked a curl back into place in vain, knowing it would break free the moment she took her eye off of it, but she had little to do until the ship finally docked, and she still had no clue how long that would be.

"What do you think the animals are like in Carthak, Kit?" she asked, turning to the blue dragonet on the bed. Kitten had not moved since the meeting, other than to spread herself out more thoroughly. The dragon chirped an idle reply, then sat upright suddenly with a low whistle. "Kitten? What is it?" Kitten trilled as silver mist swirled in the room, and Daine got her answer as the badger lumbered into the room and knocked her nose over tail.

— _What are you doing here?!_ — The snarl was impatient, with an edge of worry to it. Daine picked herself off the ground gingerly, then sat once more. "Nice to see you too, Badger," she said, rubbing her head. The curls would never go back into place at this rate.

— _Don't be impertinent. You should not be here. Turn this ship around and leave, now, before it's too late.—_ The badger god was not one to pace, but Daine noticed that he shifted his considerable bulk from side to side anxiously. The badger, anxious?

"I can't turn the ship around. And besides, I have to heal the emperor's birds. Whatever is happening?"

— _It's not for kits to ask. But you must turn back. This land is not safe, for you or for those in it.—_

"Badger, if we turned around now, the talks would fall apart before they even started. The Carthaks would start a war, and my friends would be in danger again. And the emperor's birds, remember?" The badger huffed, fixing her with a beady eye.

— _You are truly not going to heed this warning?_ — Daine swallowed hard, for the badger's fear had become catching.

"I can't." The badger sighed, then waddled to the edge of the room, his back to her.

— _Then heed another. Beware the Black Mage. The emperor may hold the power of the realm, but the Black Mage holds power foreign to even your best scholars. Do not cross him.—_ The warning almost made Daine want to laugh out loud. Would there be no end to the warnings about this Numair fellow?

"All I want to do is heal the emperor's birds and be on my way," Daine said. "I have no plans to cross some all-powerful mage, nor do I even know how I would try to do it." The badger's hackles lifted slightly.

— _Plans change. Keep well clear of him.—_ He trundled back to Daine and gazed at her, his expression still worried. — _I cannot convince you to go home? No. You are a good kit, for all that you do not listen to your elders.—_ The badger cocked his head to the side, as if listening to something, then frowned. — _What? Oh, alright. But we will have a talk about this, later.—_ He turned to Daine. — _I am sorry about this, but it was insisted upon.—_ The badger breathed, a silvery mist that enveloped her face. His breath smelled of rotting fish and earth, not entirely unpleasant, unlike the sensation that filled her mouth, nose and ears. Her head and lungs filled, like the time she had swallowed too much water under the waves and thought she would pop with pressure, and then the mist disappeared, and so had the badger.

"What," Daine asked Kitten, "do you suppose that was all about?" The dragonet looked as confused as she did, and chriped, low and worried, in answer.

A knock came at the door. "Daine?" Alanna called. "It's time. We're pulling into port, and we're all needed on deck to wave at our gracious hosts."

"Just a moment!" Daine called back. She looked once more in the mirror, to survey the badger's handiwork. Sure enough, he had knocked her curls into complete disarray. "Kit? The straightening up trick?" The dragon surveyed Daine for a moment before shaking her head. Daine sighed. Of course it would be too much to ask to present herself respectably. Perhaps it was just as well. "If I look a disgrace, then Sir Mighty Powerful Mage will probably lump me in with all the bumpkins and leave me be." She tried to smile at the young dragon, but Daine's heart wasn't in it. The badger's warning had shaken her. The knock came again at the door, and Daine jumped, opening it. Alanna stood at the other side, looking radiant in pale purple breeches and a gold tunic.

"Goodness," she said. "What happened to your hair? Well, never mind. We're already missed, and Lord Martin will have kittens if we don't present ourselves in whatever the proper Carthaki way is." Alanna took Daine by the hand and led her from the room at a brisk pace.

"Alanna, I have something to tell you," Daine started, but Alanna cut her off.

"Later," the knight said, her voice low. Daine was about to insist, but the look on Alanna's face brooked no disagreement. It's not like the badger said how quickly we had to turn around, Daine reasoned, and took a deep breath, steeling herself against Carthak, and whatever ills it brought with it.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment Daine came on deck, the spectacle the Carthaki People had been making of themselves turned into complete pandemonium, as every animal great and small sounded its greeting to her. She tried not to smile, but it was hard to resist. How could she have been worried coming here, with so many friends already? Thank you, everyone! But go back to your homes now, she urged them silently. You're making the two-leggers fair nervous!

Daine and Kitten were at the very end of the delegation, where the lesser nobles stood, which was just as well because it seemed the more important you were, the longer you had to stand and bow. Still, the day was hot, and she could see nothing from her position.

When she finally could see Prince Kaddar, she had to catch her breath. Whatever she had expected, this was not it. He wore a white tunic that set off his olive skin and showed well-muscled calves wrapped with gold sandals, while a red cloak covered one shoulder, fastened at the other across his slim, hardened chest with more gold, this in the shape of a scarab. His sensitive brown eyes were painted like a woman's, but somehow this only added to his masculine beauty, with kohl accenting the almond shape. Rubies adorned his person, a button at his nose, bangles on his wrist, a large stone at his throat. Gold rings marched up his left ear, while a small circlet of gold sat on an abudance of hair that spilled over his shoulders, the color of rich coffee. He's fair wondrous, she thought, awe-struck by the display. Daine had never seen a man take this much care with his person, and it was having its intended effect.

All too soon, she was in front of him. He had seemed bored, held erect in his chair by sheer force of will while his eyes belied a desire to be somewhere else. But as she approached, he sat up straighter.

"Your Grace, you honor me with your invitation, and I will be most humbled to accept your hospitality." She intoned the words she had been taught, and swept into what she hoped was a perfect curtsy. She silently thanked Queen Thayet for practicing the motion with her until she had it right.

"Veralidaine Sarrasri," he murmured. Daine rose to meet his eyes, and her breath caught. He truly was a beautiful man, and his gaze warmed her. Kitten chirped, walking up to Kaddar to better examine his gems.

"Kitten, don't—" Daine started, but Kaddar seemed delighted.

"This is your dragon?" he asked Daine. She smiled, releasing a breath she did not know she had been holding.

"She's her own dragon, Your Grace. I just take care of her."

"But she is a true dragon? Not a basilisk, or something else?"

"No, Your Grace. A basilisk has more pebbled skin, and Kit—well, her name is Skysong, but we call her Kitten—she has scales, and wings." The subject of their conversation grabbed Kaddar's hand, turning it over in her claws as she observed the rings. She croaked, and the ruby bracelet flared to life. Kaddar made a startled sound, then broke into a wide smile.

"She does magic." Daine nodded, about to explain when one of the prince's advisors coughed discreetly. The glimpse of sweetness Daine had observed turned into resignation as Prince Kaddar sighed and leaned back in his ornate chair. "My lady Veralidaine, you must join us for a tour of Carthak's wonders. Wherever you so desire to go, we will take you. Whatever you desire to do, we shall do with you." An image of a private alcove swam into Daine's mind, cool stones against her back, warm lips pressed to hers…

Kitten peeped, and Daine hoped the heat of the day hid the blush in her cheeks. "Of course, Your Grace. And if you please, it is just Daine." Kaddar's gaze swept from Kitten, then traveled from Daine's feet up her body, before finally meeting her gaze. A warmth was growing in her belly, one she could not explain.

"I imagine you are not 'just' anything, my lady Daine," he murmured softly. "I look forward to our next meeting." Daine swept into another curtsy, then moved away to make room for another after her. She commended her legs for doing their job. After the last look he had given her, she was not certain they were going to remember how to continue standing. All thoughts of the Black Mage were scrubbed from her mind as warnings were pushed aside to make room for the image of Prince Kaddar.

"Enjoy your first meeting with a foreign head of state?" Alanna asked as Daine leaned over the rail of the barge. "They make a bit more of a spectacle than we do at home." Privately, Daine thought this was a terrible understatement.

"I enjoyed it well enough," she replied, keeping her gaze fixed in the distance. If she was not mistaken, there were crocodiles out there, large lizard beasts she had never seen with her own eyes. It was a much safer pastime than dwelling on her meeting with the prince. Alanna surveyed her young charge and pursed her lips. Daine's safekeeping was her responsibility, and it had been an easy task so far. But she had the distinct feeling that was all in the past. Standing at the rail in her gossamer blue gown, it was hard to remember the awkward thirteen-year-old that had walked mud-covered into Corus in the midst of a herd of mountain ponies. Onua had remarked that more than one young Rider had been taken to task by Sarge for expressing certain opinions about Daine, most having to do with the swell of her bum or her shapely legs. It did not help that those big blue grey eyes seemed so innocent, that Daine's full mouth looked entirely too vulnerable. Perfect for some villain to think he can take advantage, Alanna thought crossly.

The knight sighed heavily, and Daine turned to her. "Is something wrong?" the younger girl asked. Alanna shook her head.

"No, not wrong. Just…" Alanna paused, scratching her nose. Gods bless it, was this how Rebekah had felt, handing her a pregnancy charm? Alanna felt a hundred years old, and far away from the young woman who had taken a Shang warrior to bed. "Daine, I know you've heard more warnings about this court than you'll need a lifetime. And it's not even a warning, so to speak, it's just…information." Daine smiled encouragingly, certain she knew where this was going.

"I've been around animals in spring time, Alanna," she said with mirth. The knight shifted to the other foot.

"Yes, yes," Alanna replied impatiently. "That's not what I'm talking about. I know you know about sex. What I am talking about is politics."

"Politics?" Alanna nodded.

"The peace we come to broker is tenuous at best. There is a lot at play here. We are women unveiled, from a foreign land. That makes us a commodity. I'm married, so at least I have that to recommend my reputation. But you are a young woman, unmarried, and unspoken for. There is many a noble who would love the trophy of a Tortallan woman on his mantle, especially one so beloved by the king."

"A trophy?" Daine asked with a frown. "Like a hunter?"

"Yes, like that. There are a number of games afoot when political tension is high. One of them is the game of beds, and I imagine the Carthaki will use any advantage they have. Take care in your dealings, and be especially careful with—"

"The Black Mage. I know. I'm fair certain I've no worry in that quarter—from what I hear, he is interested only in buxom blonde women who have nothing 'twixt their ears." Alanna raised an eyebrow.

"And where, pray tell, did you hear this?" Daine ducked her head, realizing she should have kept that to herself. The Rider girls had not let her travel to Carthak without giving her all the most salacious gossip they could think of, much of it having to do with the Black Mage, and his legendary reputation as a womanizer. "Never mind," Alanna continued. "I was not thinking of him anyway. I was going to say be careful with Prince Kaddar." At the mention of his name, a traitorous blush suffused Daine's face, and she looked up in alarm into Alanna's purple eyes that seemed to know more than ever. "I thought so. Take care, Daine. He is a prince of the realm, and while you are free to give your love where you may, he does not have that luxury. You are turning into a young woman, and he has not been heir so long as for me to trust he knows where his duty as nobility lays."

Daine turned back to the marsh, trying to will the blush from her cheeks.

"He's a prince, Alanna," she said. "Princes like fancy women, I'm sure he will have no thoughts for the likes of me." It was hard, Alanna thought, to remember that Daine was only sixteen.

"Under all of that finery, the prince is still a man. Remember that, love." The knight patted Daine's shoulder, and moved to the front of the barge, leaving Daine bewildered and embarrassed, though she didn't know why.

Come hunt instead, sister. A pair of crocodile eyes appeared of a sudden from the surface of the marsh, and then another. It is a simple thing, and will not vex you like these two-leggers. Daine smiled, certain the crocodiles were right in that.

Perhaps another time, she replied. I'm to stay decent for the day, else I'll be in trouble.

Shouting voices to her right snapped Daine from her conversation. On another barge, a young boy was struggling with something in his arms while a slave woman berated him. The boy was crying, but it was nothing to the screeches emanating from his charge. Daine realized it was an animal, and no sooner did she register this thought than the boy opened his arms and the creature tumbled into the river.

"You see? You don't deserve any thing you can't hold on to!" the slave told the boy sharply, and turned the crying child away from the river, giving no more thought to the animal who had tumbled into it.

The crocodiles did not share her disinterest. The small creature was struggling fiercely to stay afloat, but the current kept pulling it down. The crocodiles swam lazily toward it, knowing the little animal was going nowhere.

"No, don't!" Daine cried aloud, but the crocodiles were too intent on their meal to listen. She bit her lip, then cursed, kicking off her delicate slippers and jumping the rail of the barge to dive into the river. Shouts followed her, but she ignored them as she sliced cleanly through the current to reach the little animal. Up close, she saw it was a small monkey, like none she had ever seen before, and it was wearing a monstrously oversized jewel collar. She scooped the animal from the river, then tread water as she unlocked the collar and pumped the monkey's lungs, willing him to breathe. The small animal coughed once, then screeched, panicking and scampering up Daine's arm to her head. The sudden motion made Daine lose her concentration, and she dipped momentarily under the water, inhaling a mouthful of river before gaining control again.

In the confusion, the crocodiles slipped closer to Daine.

You come to hunt with us after all, sister, the nearest one said in a silky voice. Daine struggled to get her charge under control while treading water at the same time.

"Please calm down," Daine said desperately, "I can't—" The small monkey screeched at the crocodiles, tangling its small hands in Daine's curls and pulling at her scalp. I'm not hunting with you! Daine said to the crocodiles. Please go away, you are scaring him!

They taste better when they are scared, came the reply. The crocodiles circled her in the water, waiting for Daine to release her charge. Please, Daine repeated, adding a touch of her will to the request. The crocodiles faltered for a moment, but it was hard to concentrate, and her will slipped. The nearest crocodile lashed out, and Daine shouted, throwing out her magic like a net.

Instead of catching the crocodile, Daine found herself soaring through the air, born on magic, to be dumped unceremoniously on the banks of the river. She crawled to her knees, cursing. Alanna knew better than to interfere when Daine was with the People! "Odds bobs, Alanna, I was doing just fine—"

"It seemed like a rather different story from where I am standing," came the silken reply. Daine started, looking up for the first time. Before her stood perhaps the tallest man she had ever seen. He was swarthy, with coal black hair and eyes that glinted like onyx, as unfathomable as a hawk, and just as sharp. A simple white shirt pulled against broad shoulders, and powerful legs strained against his well-worn breeches. His only adornment was a black stone hung by a leather thong around the thick column of his neck. A blacksmith? Daine wondered, but despite the simple dress, something about the man's demeanor shouted power, not just the physical kind. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, taking care to not dump her new cargo. She cradled the monkey in the crook of one arm and tried to sketch a curtsy, but with the added weight, she was considerably more clumsy than she had been before the royal delegation.

"Begging your pardon, sir. I thought you was—were someone else. I thank you for your help, but you needn't worry on my account. See, I can talk to the animals, which is what I was doing, because I am—"

"Positively brimming with wild magic." Daine's gaze snapped up, and her breath caught at the look in his eye. She had seen it before, but she could not place where. One thing she knew, it was a powerful mage indeed who could examine _her_ magical aura, and an educated one who even knew what wild magic was, let alone speak of it without dismissing it as an old wives tale. The man reached out and brushed a wet curl from her forehead. "What potential there is here, if you only had the right training," he murmured. Daine straightened, standing with her back stiff, and batted his hand away.

"Excuse me," she replied, a bit more forcefully than she had intended for a stranger. "I have been trained by the Lioness herself, one of the best sorceresses in the world."

"The Lioness is a knight, and a healer. Perhaps she has guided you to your power, but she has not trained you in it." Daine scowled.

"And what would you know about it?"

"A great deal more than you, I'd imagine." Daine's eyes widened, blue grey darkening like thunderclouds.

"Does your ma know she forgot to teach you manners? You may know about my magic, whoever you are, but you don't know _me."_ The tall man grinned wolfishly, and Daine was displeased to find him attractive. He doesn't hold a candle to the prince, she thought fiercely. He stepped towards her, uncomfortably close, so she had to crane her neck to look up at him. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

"Certainly, we shall have to change that." Without taking his eyes from hers, he barked at a passerby on the dock. "You! Your cloak, now." A woman, richly dressed, startled, and before she could remove the cloak herself, the man's magic pulled it from her. It was made of fine brocade, a beautiful shade of orange with gold thread. The man pressed it into Daine's hands.

"What are you doing?" Daine asked, indignant. "I'm not even cold! Give this back this instant!" She tried to thrust the garment back at him, but he held up his hands. She may as well have been offering it to a wall of stone.

"Please, Your Excellency," the woman stammered, trying to back away and curtsy at the same time. "Accept my humble offering—" The man did not pay the woman any attention, and rather than wait for an answer, she fled down the dock, abandoning the cloak. Daine turned to watch her go, then whirled back on the man.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed.

"The answer to that would depend entirely on whom you ask," he replied mildly. Daine grit her teeth, and tried to give him the cloak one more time.

"I do not want this. I do not want anything from you, especially if it is taken by force." The look, the one she could not name, leapt back into his eyes, and once again she found it difficult to breathe.

"A pity," said the man. He stepped back, his gaze wandering for the first time. "You may not want it, but you need it." His eyes traveled down her throat, lingering on her breasts before trailing down her stomach and her legs. Daine blushed fiercely, her breath coming shallow and her heart pounding. It seemed where his eyes went, that he brushed her with the lightest touch.

"I need nothing from you," she said.

"Perhaps you think so," he replied mildly. "But your dress is ruined, and as much as I have been enjoying it, I imagine you will appreciate my gift once your friends arrive."

"What? What are you—" Daine looked down for the first time, and nearly screamed in anger. The beautiful blue gown, as gossamer as a butterfly's wing, was clearly not meant for the water. It clung to her every curve, as transparent as if she wore nothing at all. With a curse, she threw the cloak around her shoulders, hugging it tight against her chest. "How dare you," she said, breathless with anger.

"How dare I what? Save your life? Or protect your decency?"

Daine spluttered. "You have done neither of those things!"

"A rather different story," he said, "from where I am standing." The man grinned, and before she could help herself, Daine slapped him.

Like the tide rushing out, the grin left his face, replaced by a storm. He grabbed her hand and held it fast, engulfing it in his oversized grip. "I will give you that one." His voice was low, dangerous, nearly a growl. "But should you seek to strike me again, I will forget that you are an ignorant foreign girl, far from home." As he spoke, he squeezed her hand, until the small bones ground together.

"You're hurting me," she said. He did not release her. Daine refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out, but sweat began to bead on her forehead. He was not holding her hand that hard, she knew. He was putting magic behind it. It was too much.

"Daine!" Alanna's voice called out to her. Daine turned, seeing that the barge had nearly come to shore. The scene was distinctly Carthaki, and of a sudden the heat of the day became oppressive, the sounds of the dock blaring, the smell of the marsh overpowering. She was far from home, and this was not Tortall. Daine turned back to the man and lowered her lashes.

"Please," she whispered. "Please let me go."

"So your name is Daine," he murmured. Immediately, the pressure on her hand ceased, and the pain lessened. She saw black fire entwining her fingers as he healed whatever damage he had done. He then brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, as was the custom back home. To all the world, he appeared the chivalrous gentleman. But she saw the mockery in his eyes, and hated him for it.

"Until we meet again, sweetling," he said softly, then turned to the barge and sketched a deep bow to the prince. Without another word, he walked off, and the crowds parted where he went to let him through.

"Daine!" Alanna said once more, near jumping off the barge to get to her. Daine's knees buckled, and Alanna ran up just in time to keep her from falling. "Are you alright? I thought you were talking with those crocodiles, but then you were pulled out—"

"I'm fine," Daine said, hoping her voice did not shake as much as her legs. Alanna led her to a bench, where Daine sat down gratefully, taking care to keep the cloak wrapped tightly about her. "I _was_ fine too, until that impossible, horrible, rude man pulled me out of the river!"

Alanna's gaze shot to the barge, where the delegation was disembarking more politely than she had done, then back to Daine. "Keep your voice down," she hissed. "Goddess, Daine, do you even know who that man is?" Daine's stomach sank as she shook her head slowly, begging all the gods to not let Alanna say what she knew she would. The knight pressed the heel of her hand to her eye in frustration. "All those warnings, wasted. I haven't heard much about the Black Mage having a forgiving streak, but we'll just have to hope he does. Come, let's get you cleaned up." Daine stood up, her whole body feeling wooden, numb, as she had a revelation.

The Black Mage. Of course it had to be him. But that was not what disturbed her. She had finally put a name to the look she had seen in his eyes, that odd light she could not place. Daine had seen it once before, in Galla, when she had ran on all fours like a wolf, when her own village folk had chased her down to kill her.

The Black Mage looked at her like a hunter surveying his prey. He looked like he wanted to swallow her whole.


	3. Chapter 3

Daine nearly sighed with relief as she arrived in her apartments. They were close by to Alanna, and the knight was placated that she would have a close eye on the young woman, lest she think of getting into any more trouble. This is nice, chirped Zek, springing from behind Daine's hair to tuck lustily into a fruit bowl sitting on her vanity. Daine smiled, then took advantage of the wash basin while Kitten inspected every corner for whatever it was baby dragons looked for. Soon, Daine felt fresh and new, clad in a whispering gown of twilight blue with silver beads across a modest neckline. Her walk through court had shown that though the women outside the walls of the palace were expected to be covered, inside the palace was another story. The emperor loved his displays, she had overheard Lord Martin saying crossly, so Daine was not going to argue. It was fair hot in this place, and the dresses Thayet had gifted her were nice and light.

You look pretty, Zek said, popping another grape in his mouth. Like a nice piece of fruit. Daine smiled and ruffled his fur. The dresses were gloriously beautiful, that certainly did not hurt either. She gave the room one last look, and then frowned. Since she arrived, there was one sore spot for her, a thick tiger skin rug with the head still attached, jaws stuck in an eternal roar. She had avoided it as much as possible, but it felt wrong, her all dressed up and about to go have fun and such a majestic creature, laid out on her floor like so much refuse.

Daine crouched beside the rug and sighed. "You poor, beautiful thing. Two-leggers are fair stupid sometimes, thinking you look better lying here than out in the jungle somewhere." She reached out a hand to caress the striped cheek, but instead of springy fur, her fingers felt hot, itchy. White light sprang from them, filled the room, and knocked Daine backward with a yelp.

Kitten whistled, a low warning. Daine sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes so her vision would clear, then looked at the rug, and the rug looked at her.

The tiger skin yawned.

"Goddess!" Daine yelled, scrambling backward, but the tiger skin had stopped moving. "Did you see that?" she demanded of Zek and Kitten. Both of them looked as bewildered as she felt. With a hairbrush, Daine gingerly pushed the tiger skin away from her, stuffing it under the bed. As she did, she felt anger rising in her breast. Had the Black Mage cursed her somehow? She couldn't think of another reason a dead tiger's skin would want to move around in _her_ apartment, but it did not make any sense for him to jeopardize the talks for some mage's trick.

"Still…" Daine muttered darkly, climbing to her feet and smoothing the wrinkles in her dress. "I'm in enough trouble, don't you think?" Kitten nodded happily, chirping her agreement, and Daine shook her head, hoping against hope that the rest of the trip would be filled with helping the emperor's birds, and absolutely nothing else.

Daine met Alanna outside their rooms, and grinned to see the knight clad in a gown of deep purple, with her red cropped hair swept back with amethyst pins. Daine sighed, trying not to be envious of the knight. "You look fair wondrous," she said. "Thayet says there's nothing like a good gown to give you confidence." Alanna smiled crookedly, a hint of a blush on her cheeks, and swept her hand by her side, grasping comically for a hilt that was not there. "I'd feel a lot more confident with a sword around my hips, but I suppose one can't have everything."

Daine giggled. "No, I suppose not."

Alanna's eyes narrowed when she noticed Daine's own dress. "One of Thayet's?" she asked. Daine blushed and nodded, and Alanna fought hard to purse her lips in disapproval. She had been Daine's age—younger, even—when she had come into her own knowledge of her femininity. It was not for Alanna to throw a sack on the girl and hide her from male eyes like the Carthaki, but at that moment, it was just what Alanna wanted to do, especially after seeing the way the prince had looked at her.

Daine had no thoughts for her own appearance for the moment, for when the rest of their delegation arrived, her heart swelled to see what dashing figures they all struck. Perhaps Carthak was known for its excessive displays, but none could match Tortall in honest elegance. As they walked toward the hall, Daine remembered for the first time the badger's warning, and his insistence that she share it with the others.

"Alanna, I have something important to tell you," she started, but the knight hissed out of the side of her mouth, then leaned in. Daine tilted her head to hear her whisper.

"Kitten is here so I don't have a care for listening spells, but there are plenty of eyes trained to read lips, and plenty an ear sharp enough to catch a passing conversation. If it's important, it will have to wait until we are in a safer place." Daine nodded, and shivered. She may walk among her people right now, but this was not Tortall. They were not free to say or do what they would. Unbidden, the face of Master Numair came to mind, his fierce black eyes, dancing with humor one moment and darkening into thunder the next, telling her she was far from home. He's not wrong, Daine thought sadly. Gods, let me just stay with the birds for the rest of the trip!

The Black Mage himself was getting ready to meet the Tortallan delegation, but his mind was only on meeting the girl again. He stood in front of the long glass, studying his reflection, dwelling on the events of the day. Though he was due in the throne room shortly, he had managed only to don the northern style breeches that he preferred to the Carthaki tunic. Instead of selecting a shirt, he fastened the black opal around his neck, running a finger across its smooth surface idly. He wondered whether black opals could amplify wild magic, as they did the Gift. A true wild mage had not been seen in Carthak for hundreds of years, and he disliked that most of his knowledge of them was purely academic. There were the Beast People, but they were an anomaly, and only footnotes in his books. But someone like this girl, now there was a power to be studied!

He pulled his jet hair back in a leather thong, thinking back to their encounter earlier. Mithros, she was young, but her loveliness could not be denied. Numair reasoned that it was her power that drew him. Her power, he thought, and not her waist that he could span with both hands, not her small upthrust breasts that had been taunting him through that ridiculously sheer material. The sharp heat of desire lanced through him, and Numair scowled, taking a deep breath to steel himself against it. There was no denying that he wanted her. To study, he reminded himself fiercely. She was a prickly one, and he would need her trust to fully plumb the depths of her power. He did not mind his reputation as a rake—encouraged it, in fact, for he knew it was a sore point for the emperor—but he imagined that Daine would have been warned against him already. Not to mention their first meeting, where he had not exactly been chivalrous.

Numair frowned. He prided himself on his ability to always be in control, but she had goaded him into threats, with her defiance, blue grey eyes flashing disdain. He admitted it thrilled him, at first, to be spoken to in such a way. There were few these days who would dare even look in his eyes, let alone truly try to thwart him. But she had pushed too far, and his temper, so evenly maintained, had somehow snapped. He had not lost his temper in an age, and yet this slip of a girl had managed it in two minutes. His frown deepened as his thoughts cast back to her in that moment, dripping on the banks of the River Zekoi, her cheeks suffused with a blush, the soft skin of her wrist held in his palm, her breath coming faster as she realized who he was, that here was a man who would not yield to her demands.

He rolled his eyes at his reflection and turned away. The very thought of the girl, and he was hard as a rock. Not yield, indeed. So much for the Black Mage's famed self-control, he thought sourly.

"Talu!" he called, and the door to Numair's chambers opened, admitting an older man with a shaved head. He was smaller than the Black Mage, with the easy demeanor of one who is secure in his place in the world. Talu could tell his master was in a mood, but it did not bother him. His master was always in a mood, and Talu had learned to bear these moods easily. He had known the master since Numair had been the young Arram Draper, fresh from university and green in the ways of politics, best friend to the heir apparent. Talu had helped Arram navigate palace life, and the master had intervened when Talu should have aged out of palace duty, claiming Talu to be the personal valet of the vizier Numair Salmalin, as he had taken to calling himself by then. The role was largely ceremonial. A mage of Master Numair's caliber needed no help dressing and looking presentable. If Talu was being called in to help him prepare, it meant the master had something on his mind.

"Dawdling about again, Black Mage?" Talu asked, taking stock of his master with a paternal pride. Numair stalked about the room like a restless jungle cat, and clad only his breeches Talu was pleased to see that while the mage's Gift grew, he continued to listen to Talu's advice that strong magic should exist only in a strong body. Talu had no Gift himself, but he had seen much in his years, not the least of which was a sorceror drained of magic, fallen to a knife or a sword. Even if Master Numair did not possess the strongest Gift in the world, it would be a brave man indeed who would challenge him to a fight.

"I'd hate to gain a reputation as a punctual man," Numair drawled. "People might come to expect things of me." Talu snorted, heading to the bureau to select a suitable garment for a royal audience.

"Perish the thought, master." It was no difficulty picking a fine black tunic stitched with silver thread. "Stand by the glass, if you please." Numair did as he was bid, and waited patiently as Talu dressed him. "Is the master nervous to meet with the Tortallan delegation?" the slave asked.

Numair snorted. "I have fought every black mage in the world and defeated them single handed. I hardly think a foreign delegation of politicians would have me anywhere near nervous."

"And yet the master fidgets like a schoolboy." Numair glared at Talu through the mirror, but the slave ignored him, returning to the bureau to procure the black robe that would complete his dress. He helped Numair shrug into it, and surveyed the final result.

"Ozorne plays a game that is beginning to bore me. I tire of the politics, as you well know."

"So the schoolboy prefers to leave his real studies for some wild pursuits," Talu replied mildly. This time, his remark prompted Numair to turn so the men were face to face.

His voice low and dark, he said, "What have you heard?"

"Only the idle palace gossip, of course." The slave took a small brush and dusted his master's shoulders off, not the least worried about Numair's tone. "That a lovely young maid rides with the delegation, and that a certain Black Mage met her on the banks of the River Zekoi, and she in a shocking state of undress. But I assume you will tell me your interest is purely academic?" Numair turned back toward the mirror, his mouth set in a thin line.

"You'd know me for a liar if I did," he responded. Talu nodded, straightening the sleeves on the robe.

"Of course, if this girl has captured your interest, then you may be certain she's caught the interest of the emperor as well. And you know how well he loves his toys. Ah, there, you see? The picture of elegance." Talu stepped back from the mirror while Numair surveyed the dark figure he struck. The picture of forbidding doom, more like, he thought, and just the way he preferred it.

"Ozorne can't have her," he said. The moment the words left his lips, he knew he meant them. Ozorne would have no idea what to do with such raw and primal power, no idea how to elicit its secrets, tease out its nuances. The emperor was a ham-fisted novice with his Gift, more prone to punching through silk with an awl, while Numair knew when to use a fine needle. The man would probably lock her up in the university, demanding she tell him all she knew, rather than gain her trust and discover it with her willingness.

Or he'd rather keep her in his menagerie, among the animals, a small voice said.

No.

Daine was his mystery to explore, Numair decided. She was his, no matter what.

The thought of Daine, standing on the river bank in her dripping blue dress, filled him with lust once more. He rubbed his face, knowing this problem would not solve itself. He needed a woman under his hands. "Talu," Numair said, "please send for the Lady Varice. Tell her I do not care what she is doing." They would certainly be late to the proceedings now, but the thought of making Ozorne wait did nothing to dampen Numair's ardor. Talu pursed his lips, but said nothing. He knew a dismissal when he heard one, much as he knew his master had made up his mind on something he did not wish to share. The slave turned on his heel and left at a trot. No doubt the lady would screech his ear off about how she could not possibly be pulled away on such short notice, but Talu knew she would come along. Women like her did not usually ignore a summons from Master Numair Salmalin, especially not when it was a summons to his private chambers.


End file.
